


Hope is the thing with feathers

by TheMelancholyVegetable



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, but the smut comes later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMelancholyVegetable/pseuds/TheMelancholyVegetable
Summary: David accompanies Patrick on his Big Coming Out Trip (aka high school varsity sports reunion) as moral support.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 108
Kudos: 332





	1. A Request

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for a fake dating fic, so here is my humble offering.
> 
> Unbeta'ed, so all mistakes are mine. Three hashtags indicate changes in perspective between David and Patrick.
> 
> Title is from the Emily Dickinson poem.

Patrick is acting weird. It is all David can think about, all he’s been able to think about since he walked into the store that morning to find Patrick drumming his fingers on the counter and staring at his phone. He had startled when David opened the door, turned to mutter a distracted “morning, David,” and gone back to drumming and staring.

An hour after his arrival, just when David is ready to ask what the hell is going on with him, Patrick beats him to the punch. “I have to come out to my ex.”

Thank goodness David is still facing the shelving because it gives him time to school his expression. He’s been wondering about Patrick’s “preferences” almost since he’d first met the man, has been trying (and failing) not to let himself hope, and now here is the confirmation he’s been waiting for. So, his first reaction is an equal mix of shock and glee, both totally inappropriate responses to show his business partner and friend who has just come out to him _and_ admitted to not being out to his ex at, what is he, almost thirty? No, before David turns around he needs to school his face into something more akin to empathy. Something that says, “you can talk to me.” Taking a deep breath and trying to relax his jaw, David turns around and says, “O-kaaay” in a way that he hopes sounds open and not judgmental.

# # #

That morning, Patrick had arrived at the store a bit earlier than normal. Ray is out of town, and without his enthusiastic breakfast conversation, Patrick’s morning routine took less time than usual. After getting the till ready for the day and restocking a few items on the floor, he’d found himself with nothing to do, and so got out his phone for a quick game of AlphaBears. When he pulled his phone out of his back pocket he saw that he had two notifications, one for a text message and one for an email. His stomach dropped when he saw that the text message was from Rachel. This was the fourth one this week.

****I miss you, P. I just want to know if you’re okay.** **

He deleted it like he had the other three and opened his email, which began:

****Dear team member,** **

****A friendly reminder that it’s that time again! Please join us June 9-11, 2017 for the 12 th Quinquennial Varsity Sports Reunion.** **

Shit. The reunion. Every five years, his high school held a reunion for anyone who had played a Varsity sport at the school. Even though the school was fairly small, it was a massive event because it included people from every graduating class. Why it fell on years that ended in 2 and 7 instead of zero and 5 was the stuff of school legend. No one knew the answer, but it was guaranteed to come up in conversation at least once during every reunion. With all that had happened in the last three months, Patrick had forgotten that it was coming up. He’d RSVPed before he’d even thought about leaving home, and had been receiving reminder emails about it every month since. This was the third reunion since he graduated high school and he hated the thought of missing. He had had a wonderful time at his two previous reunions, but…things were different now. What would he say to people? And Rachel would be there. Patrick’s stomach turned to lead at the thought of _that_ confrontation. He wasn’t sure he was ready to have the conversation they needed to have. The things he needed to say to her…well, he was only just starting to feel comfortable saying them to himself.

_How do I tell the woman I was going to marry that I think I’m gay?_ Patrick thought. _What if she asks how I know? How do I know? Because I have a crush? What even is a crush, really? It’s nothing._

But Patrick knew, if he allowed himself to examine it, that the way he felt when he looked at David was _not_ nothing. It was everything. David made him feel giddy, made his pulse race, and at the same time made him feel safe. More to the point, David made him feel something he’d never really felt before. Desire. And that, well, it was definitely not nothing. So yeah, he knew. He didn’t _think_ he knew. He knew.

But it wasn’t just his sexuality he had to explain to Rachel. It was also his actions. In addition to spending most of his life thinking he was straight, Patrick had also always thought of himself as a take-charge kind of guy. But does a take-charge guy quit his job, leave his fiancée, and move five hours away without a word of explanation to anyone, just to avoid his problems? Probably not. So, while the last three months had brought him a lot of things – a new home, new friends, and a new business venture – they had also brought him an identity crisis.

Patrick had been mid-spiral when David came into the store a little before ten, and a mid-spiral Patrick was a distracted Patrick. His topsy-turvy consciousness barely registered David’s presence. But subconsciously just knowing David was there calmed him, and his thoughts began to coalesce into something manageable.

By the time an hour has passed, he’s come to a decision. He has to take charge, to do the hard thing. But he is going to need moral support.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he looks at David, who is organizing product on the far wall, and says, “I have to come out to my ex.”

“O-kaaay.” Patrick can see David’s back stiffen and his eyebrows raise in surprise as he turns around, but it only lasts for a split second. That split second is enough for Patrick to realize what he’s done. His spiraling brain had been so focused on making a decision and not chickening out that he hadn’t thought through the fact that he has just come out, for the first time, to his business partner and crush.

Nothing to do about it now. He just has to press on.

“There’s this reunion coming up – our high school’s quinquennial varsity sports reunion – I always go, and- and Rachel always goes. It’s in three weeks. And I need to tell her. I need her to know why I…I just, I need her to know. And I don’t know how to do it. How to say it. And I was hoping. Maybe. Um, I was hoping that,” Patrick takes a deep breath before plowing ahead, “maybe you’d go with me for moral support?”

# # #

David watches Patrick closely as he explains his upcoming reunion ( _Quinquennial? What even is that?_ ) and asks him to be his moral support. He continues to watch as Patrick slumps against the counter, eyes downcast, utterly spent. He pulls his lips between his teeth, taking a moment to feel. He feels so many things. Pride is foremost. He is so proud of Patrick in this moment. It had obviously been hard for him (David had the impression maybe he’d never said it before?), but he’d done it anyway. David also feels honored. That Patrick is trusting him (him!) with such a revelation, and wants his support when he talks to his ex makes David feel ten feet tall. It isn’t a feeling he’s used to. He is also feeling a certain amount of excitement and (dare he think it?) hope. Patrick is gay. _He still probably isn’t into me,_ David’s brain supplies, but he can allow himself a little bit of hope. Right? Just for a little while. He isn’t going to go crazy with it or anything, but temporary hope is allowed, surely?

But on top of all of these feelings, David is feeling anxiety. Anxiety because if David has heard correctly, Patrick has just asked him to attend a high school sports reunion (is that even a thing?). Which probably means lots of people. Lots of sports people who are probably going to be judgmental, or at the very least boring. And if this is to be Patrick’s Big Coming Out Trip™, that will mean feelings, and David doesn’t do feelings. Okay, who is he kidding? He totally does feelings. But only his own, not other people’s.

Crap, now he’s been watching Patrick for far too long without saying anything. He needs to say something.

He can do this. He can support a friend through coming out. This is something he has plenty of experience with, and if that experience can help Patrick, then David is happy to share the journey with him. David takes a deep breath and walks across the store to stand beside Patrick and place his hand on the other man’s shoulder. He feels the shoulder tense for just a moment before Patrick seems to melt under his hand. They both turn their heads to look at each other and when their eyes meet Patrick lets out a small huff and smiles a small smile before looking away again.

Before David manages to speak, Patrick says softly, “You must have so many questions.”

# # #

When David’s hand lands on his shoulder, Patrick’s stomach does a pleasant little flip and his breath catches for a second before he feels all the tension drain from his body. He looks up at David, standing to his right, with his hand on his shoulder, smiling softly at him with some emotion he can’t quite put a name to (pride? empathy? expectation?). He lets himself smile back and forces out a little sort-of laugh at the enormity of the situation before looking back at the floor. Patrick knows he hasn’t explained himself well, knows David will need to know more, but doesn’t know where to begin. So he offers David the lead. “You must have so many questions.”

“Mmmm.” The simple acknowledgement says both “yes I have questions” and also “you don’t have to talk about this right now if you don’t want to.” But Patrick needs to talk, so, nodding and shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he waits to see what David might say next.

“Am I correct in guessing that on one else knows this about you?”

“Yeah. I, uh, only recently figured it out myself.”

# # #

David nods rapidly, lips tucked in, eyes looking up at the ceiling. He wants to ask how recently Patrick figured it out. He wants to ask what brought on this revelation. Hope once again rises to the surface of his emotions before he quickly tamps it back down. This is not the time. _Don’t make this about you_ , David tells himself, and anyway, it could be about someone else, or no one at all.

Over the course of the day, amidst boxes of inventory, take out containers from the Café Tropical, and half-built shelving units, they talk. Patrick tells David about his engagement, about feeling broken, about running away from his whole life. In turn, David tells him about his own experiences as a queer man, answering questions the best he can and trying to resist asking too many of his own. He wants to be there for his friend, but doesn’t want to push Patrick to share anything he isn’t ready to share (and he really isn’t ready to hear that Patrick has a crush on Ted or Jake or his best friend from high school, or really anyone who isn’t David). By the time they go their separate ways for dinner they discussed the reunion schedule and decided that they will skip the first night’s festivities in favor of visiting Patrick’s parents. Patrick doesn’t want them hearing the news from anyone else, and it’s a small town. The chance of his parents running into someone from the reunion is not outside the realm of possibility.

The idea of meeting Patrick’s parents, of sitting there while Patrick tells them he’s gay, terrifies David a little, but he understands. He’ll do this for Patrick, all of it – the parents, the reunion, the ear to listen, and the shoulder to cry on if it comes to that. He’s just not going to let himself dwell on _why_ he’s so willing to do it.


	2. An Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys travel to the reunion where they run into Rachel. Things don't go quite as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'ed, so all mistakes are mine.

Between vendor visits, grant applications, and decorating the store, time passes quickly. Before Patrick knows it, June 8th is upon them. They are heading up a day early to get settled in at the hotel, and so that they don’t have to get on the road too early (David insisted). The whole trip has him feeling equal parts nervous, excited, and relieved. He texts David at 9:30 in the morning to say he is on his way, though he plans to stop at the café to pick up coffee, tea, and donuts before going to the motel. By the time he arrives at the motel at 9:55, David is just coming out of his room, loaded down with a suitcase, a hanging bag, and two of the reusable Rose Apothecary totes they just got in for the store. Patrick chuckles to himself.

“You know it’s barely even a three-day trip, right?” he asks as he loads David’s suitcase and hanging bag into the trunk.

“Two evening outfits, two daytime outfits, something for the car ride home, and an extra change of clothes just in case. Why? What did you pack?” David says. And then, “Oh my god, Patrick, don’t tell me you packed a duffel bag.”

“OK David, I won’t tell you I packed a duffel bag.” Patrick grins, closing the trunk and moving around to open the driver’s side door.

“Ugh,” David says with a patented David Rose eye roll before holding up the two tote bags and giving a little shoulder wiggle. “And _this_ is snacks.”

A few minutes later Patrick is driving down the highway with one of David’s playlists on the car stereo, a donut in hand. Patrick has always loved road trips. Road trips have always meant freedom, adventure, a temporary escape from the real world. But the last road trip he had been on was toward a more permanent escape from the problems of home. And now he is taking that same route, in reverse, and he’s questioning himself. He’d been so sure three weeks ago, when he’d made the decision to ask for David’s help. He is less sure now. He needs to get out of his head before he turns the car around for the safety of Schitt’s Creek.

“Let’s play a game,” he says to David.

“Mmm, okay, I am generally a fan of games, but car games are less than ideal. I mean, I suppose twenty questions would be acceptable?” David looks at him with barely concealed disdain. But that isn’t quite the kind of game Patrick had in mind.

“I was thinking more along the lines of two truths and a lie or never have I ever or, ooh, I know! This or that.”

“This or that?”

“Yeah, you know, like, cats or dogs? Mountains or beach?” then, with a sly grin at David, “Rick Owens or Givenchy?”

“Look at you knowing designers’ names!” David answers. Then, sighing in resignation, “OK, fine. I can play this. Cats, beach, Rick Owens for everyday wear. Givenchy for special occasions.”

“Ooh, but that’s cheating.”

“No. Nuh-uh. That’s my answer. Baseball or hockey?”

“Baseball to play. Hockey to watch.”

“Now who’s cheating?

Patrick grins and counters, “New York or Paris?”

“New York. Sweet or savory?”

“Savory. Vanilla or chocolate?”

The game goes on for a while until they can’t think of any more questions and lapse into a comfortable silence, except for the faint sound of Kelly Clarkson on the car speakers. After a bit, Patrick hears a light snore. He turns to see David asleep with his head against the passenger side window and his breath catches a little at how beautiful he looks. Awake, David’s face is like the ocean, constantly moving, every thought and emotion roiling on the surface. But asleep, Patrick thinks, it’s as though the ocean has become a lake – smooth, and calm, and serene. He wants so badly to reach out and touch David. To run his fingers lightly across his lips, tangle them in his hair. Put a hand on his knee, or thigh, or…. God, he needs to stop. He cannot be having these thoughts while he’s driving. Or at all. David is his business partner and friend. He is being kind, lending his support simply because he is a good person and because Patrick asked. To hope for anything more is unfair to David. He needs to leave his fantasies at home. After all, he’s going to be sharing a room with the man for the next three nights. Patrick shakes himself and re-focuses his full attention on the road. If he still steals an occasional glance at David’s sleeping form, well, who can blame him?

They stop twice, once for gas and once for more coffee and tea, arriving at the hotel a little after 4 o’clock. The hotel is nice, the lobby tastefully decorated except for a giant orange and brown banner proclaiming “Welcome Tigers!” Their room, a double with two queen beds, is on the 7th floor. Patrick walks into the room first and puts his suitcase on the far bed, closest to the window.

“Um,” he hears from the door, “I need that bed.”

Patrick turns to David with a question on his face.

“It’s just that, um, I don’t want to get murdered first,” David explains, looking down and to the side in embarrassment.

This man. Patrick can feel the fondness showing on his face. He tries to reign it in with snark. “Right. So you want me to get murdered first.”

“I mean, preferably no one is getting murdered…but yes.”

“OK David.” Patrick moves his suitcase to the top of the dresser and sits down on the bed closer to the door to watch as David unpacks and meticulously unfolds and refolds all of his clothes before placing them in the dresser drawers. David then pulls a small bag from inside his suitcase and disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes, presumably to unpack his toiletries the same way he has his clothes.

He is nearly asleep when David comes back out of the bathroom and asks, “Did you have a plan for tonight?” jolting Patrick back to consciousness.

“Oh, uh, I thought we’d order room service? Maybe call it an early night? I’m pretty exhausted and tomorrow’s going to be a big day.” Normally, six hours on the road wouldn’t affect him like this, but he’s been so wound up about this weekend. He almost feels like he could fall asleep now, at four in the afternoon, and not wake up until the morning.

“OK, in that case, do you mind if I hit the pool for a couple of hours before we eat?” David asks wistfully. “It’s been so long since I had a good swim. It’s one of the things I really miss from...well, from my other life.”

Patrick cannot control the yawn that escapes him. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Do you mind if I don’t join you this time? I think I need a nap after that drive. Sorry.”

“No problem. I’ll be back up in a couple of hours. I’ll just change and get out of your way.”

When Patrick’s bladder wakes him up an hour or so later, David is long gone. After a trip to the bathroom, he walks over to the window and opens the curtains. The room overlooks the pool and, “Holy fuck,” Patrick mutters, because there in the pool, floating on the surface with his arms folded under his head and his ankles crossed, for all the world like he’s on a lounger, is David. David, in swim trunks far shorter and more fitted than the board shorts Patrick is used to seeing on men. He looks like sex personified. Patrick’s breath hitches and his pants suddenly feel too tight. He has just enough brain power left to determine that he is high enough up and at such an angle to the sun that no one in the pool area could possibly see him, before he unzips his jeans, pulls them down to hang around his hips, and wraps his hand around his dick. As he brings himself off, his eyes never leave David, wet and languid in the summer sun.

It’s over quickly, and in the aftermath, Patrick panics a little. What was he thinking?! David is his friend. His friend who has sacrificed his weekend to help Patrick through a very scary and emotionally draining time. And here Patrick is, within hours of arriving at the hotel, objectifying him, using him to get off like some kind of pervert. Shit. Shit shit shit. He really needs to get a grip. He stumbles to the bathroom for a shower to wash away the sickening feeling of guilt and shame.

# # #

David wakes to the light of a thousand suns shining in his eyes. Or maybe it’s just the one sun, but still.

“Morning, sunshine!”

“Mmpphh,” David grumbles from beneath the covers.

“I brought you some breakfast. It’s not much because lunch is in an hour, but it should tide you over. And there’s a macchiato, but they didn’t have any cocoa powder. Sorry,” Patrick says, and then, “I’m gonna take first shower while you eat.”

David has finished off the last of the bacon and is savoring his coffee when the world stops spinning. At least, that’s what it feels like to David as Patrick comes out of the bathroom with nothing but a too-small hotel towel around his waist, blushes adorably, and nods his head toward his clothes with an “um, sorry, I-,” before awkwardly crossing to the dresser, then practically leaping back into the bathroom.

Fuck. David is done for.

When Patrick comes back out, he is in a surprisingly nice pair of gray shorts and a navy blue Henley t-shirt. He looks good. He looks very good. David bites his lip, trying not to ogle, then excuses himself to take his own turn in the bathroom. He chooses his newest Neil Barrett button up with small lightning bolts all over, a recent lucky find on eBay. Neil Barrett always makes him feel powerful, and he needs that today. His social anxiety has him feeling a little wild. Add to that the very real probability that Patrick will need his help with what he has come to think of as The Rachel Situation at some point today, and David knows this is a day for armor.

Lunch is a massive affair in Ballroom G, because this is the type of hotel that has lettered ballrooms and conference rooms. There are several doors into the large room, all across the back. Straight in front of them as they walk in, on the opposite side of the ballroom, is a long table full of food and drinks. Two dozen or so tables covered with white tablecloths are scattered around in between. Just as David predicted, almost as soon as they walk through the doors Patrick nudges him and, pointing to the right with his chin but looking straight ahead, says, “Three o’clock, redhead, green top and white capris.” Almost before David has a chance to look, Patrick grabs his arm and pulls him into a corner near the entrance so that Patrick’s back is to the room.

“I just need a minute.”

David can see the panic in the honey-brown eyes looking up at him. He reaches out and places a hand on each of Patrick’s shoulders. God, he’s wanted to touch those shoulders for so long. But this is not the time for self-indulgence, so he looks Patrick in the eyes and says, “You’ve got this.” He looks around for a moment, considering, then continues, “Do you want me there when you talk to her?”

“Yes,” Patrick answers too quickly, but then, “No. No, I think that might be awkward? I should do this on my own. She’ll be upset. It’s not fair to her to bring a stranger along.”

“Yeah, that…that makes sense. When you put it that way, you probably shouldn’t have this conversation with her here in the middle of this ballroom around all these people, either, so…,” David ventures waving his hand in a gesture that encompasses the room.

“God, you’re right. Shit, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

David has been in enough uncomfortable situations, and has gotten Alexis out of enough of them, that during this conversation he has been rapidly formulating a plan. Patrick looks a little dazed, so David shakes him by the shoulders a little to get his full attention. “Did you notice the little conference room next door? As we walked in?”

“Yes?” Patrick looks up at him and blinks slowly, his face clouding with confusion at the apparent subject change.

“Okay. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go over there and tell Rachel you need to talk, alone. And you’re going to take her into that conference room and you’re going say what you need to say. It’s private, and she can leave discreetly if she needs to.”

Patrick blinks again. After a moment, he says, “What if the room is being used? What if we’re interrupted?”

“The sign posted outside the door said the next event in there isn’t until this afternoon. No one will be in there for ages. And I’ll plant myself out in the hall to make sure no one interrupts.”

“Are you sure? You don’t mind?”

“Patrick, what else am I going to do? Mingle with a bunch of strangers and talk about the baseball?” David tries to come off light-hearted, but is pretty sure he fails. “Go get Rachel. I’ll get food and be right behind you.” He gives Patrick’s shoulders one last squeeze, because he can, before reluctantly letting go and turning toward the buffet.

# # #

When David lets go of his shoulders it takes everything in him not to grab those beautiful hands and put them right back where they were. He feels naked without David standing in front of him, touching him. He gives himself a little shake. _It’s time to do this. Suck it up. This is why you’re here_ , Patrick thinks as he starts toward Rachel.

Speaking to her again is awkward, and uncomfortable, and a little like a surreal dream, and without really knowing how they got there, Patrick finds himself sitting across from Rachel in an empty conference room, both of them in upholstered metal chairs. _It’s like a job interview_ , he thinks, and has to suppress a sudden urge to giggle. He knows he must look nervous, or sick, or otherwise unpleasant, because Rachel is just watching him quietly. Expectantly. So he begins.

“I’m sorry.” It’s inadequate, but it is a start.

Unfortunately, it is apparently the wrong start because Rachel looks relieved. “It’s okay, Patty. Really. I forgive you. I don’t understand why you took so long this time, but we’ll be okay.”

She is smiling at him and Patrick thinks this is the worst he has ever felt in his entire life. Because he knew he was going to have to break her heart, but he figured the nearly four months of radio silence between them had at least given him a head start on it. Now he’s squandered that with two simple words.

“Rachel, stop. Please, let me say this.” He takes a deep breath and rubs his hands along the tops of his thighs to stop them shaking. “Rachel. We’re not getting back together. I finally figured out why it never worked between us.”

He closes his eyes because he can’t bear to see her reaction, and finishes, “Rachel, I’m gay.”

His eyes snap open at the sound of her laughter. “Oh, Patty, no you’re not.” She almost sounds genuinely amused, but he can hear a hint of hysteria there, too.

“Yes, I am. I really, really am.”

“No, Patrick. You aren't gay.” Patrick knows that tone of voice. Has heard it exactly once, when she’d found out her father was dying of cancer. It is the voice of denial, and he does not have the patience for it.

He stands up, crossing his arms in defiance (or maybe in defense). “Rachel, I’m sorry if you don’t believe me, but I. Am. Gay.”

“Patty, I don’t know what this is about, but we’ll figure it out. Come on, let’s ditch the party. We can go to that coffee shop that just opened across from the school and talk. C’mon.” She puts a hand on his arm and he jerks away.

“Rach-,” he begins, but he is interrupted. Because David is now striding across the room toward him saying, inexplicably, “There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

And then, even more inexplicably, David is kissing his cheek. Before Patrick’s brain can catch up, he feels David’s left arm link under his own right elbow, watches as an elegant right hand reaches out toward Rachel, and hears, “You must be Rachel. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m David. Patrick’s boyfriend.”

# # #

As soon as Rachel has left the room, David begins to spiral. What the hell was that?! What was he thinking? Just minutes ago it had seemed like a great idea. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but Patrick had left the door open, and David had been right outside the room. He couldn’t help overhearing. And Rachel’s reaction had been so…weird. And Patrick was upset, and David had just…swooped in with the first solution that had come to mind. (He wasn’t going to think about why _that_ , of all things, was the solution that had come to mind.)

“Thank you, David,” Patrick says softly, interrupting his doom spiral and looking up at him with those puppy dog eyes he gets sometimes. And then Patrick’s arms are around him, his forehead resting against his chest. “God, thank you. I don’t know how I would have gotten out of that.”

David brings his arms up to wrap around Patrick’s shoulders, resting his chin atop the other man’s head. They stay like that for a long time. David wishes they could stay like that forever. Patrick’s hair smells good, and his arms feel good around David’s waist, and his own arms feel like they belong around Patrick’s shoulders. Eventually, though, David forces himself to pull away and suggests going back to the lunch.

“I don’t really feel much like being around people, to be honest,” Patrick replies, “but I am pretty hungry. Let’s grab some food to take back to the room.” Patrick starts to walk away, but when he gets to the door he stops and turns back toward David. With a smirk and a half-wink that would put Alexis to shame, he says, “Does my boyfriend want any food?”

David doesn’t think he has ever heard a more perfect sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rachel's odd reaction is based on my own similar reaction to some unexpected news back in college. I didn't know how to handle what I was being told, so I went into denial. I got past it, and so will Rachel.


	3. A Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys figure out how to be fake boyfriends and run into some old friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, unbeta'ed. Please forgive my inevitable mistakes.

David follows his _boyfriend_ back to the ballroom and piles a plate with mini sandwiches, a smattering of sides, and a fair number of cookies and brownies to take back up to their room. On the way back to the elevator, though, he is back in his head. The warm fuzzy feelings from the hug and the wink and the word boyfriend have dissipated. In their place are shame and fear. He has taken advantage of his friend’s situation to play out some Bizzaro-world version of his own pathetic fantasy. And what now? Are they going to pretend to be boyfriends for the rest of the weekend? ( _Please, yes_.) Is Patrick going to want him to find Rachel and tell her the truth? ( _Please, please no_.) Most likely they will eat their lunch and then pack and go home. Because why on earth would Patrick want to pretend to be David’s boyfriend for even a second longer than he had to?

Their hotel room has two armchairs with a small occasional table between them. The two men settle into these with their plastic plates on their laps. David feels as though he has been granted a momentary stay of execution. For a few minutes it is just him and a plate full of surprisingly delicious roast beef sandwiches, scalloped potatoes, and cheesy mac.

But then he feels Patrick’s eyes on him and looks up to find brown eyes gazing at him with the softest expression.

What does that look mean? Ever since Rachel walked out of that conference room, David has been waiting for Patrick’s inevitable anger or disgust. But it’s not coming. Instead, Patrick was grateful. And now he looks… happy? Wistful? David isn’t sure what he looks, but it definitely isn’t angry or disgusted.

He’s not sure what his own face is doing either, so he schools his expression by shoving a bite of brownie into his mouth.

Not until they are both finished eating and have thrown away their trash does Patrick speak. “You know, I’ve seen Rachel like that once before.”

“Have you?” David asks. “I don’t know her at all, but she didn’t seem normal? Like, that wasn’t a normal reaction, was it?”

“She gets kind of… hysterical, I guess? I don’t know if that’s the right word, exactly, but she kind of goes into denial if she gets news she’s not ready to handle. It happened when her dad got sick, too.” He paused for a moment before going on, “But I know her. She’s not going to leave. She’s going to stay the weekend. We’ll run into her again.”

“O-okay. Do you…do you want to go? Or do you want to stick around? I’ll do whatever you need,” David says, and he’s only panicking a little.

Patrick reaches out across the small table and takes David’s right hand in his. Seemingly absentmindedly, he plays with the rings there. Attention focused on David’s hand, he says, “Thank you, David. I- I’d really like to stay. We came all this way. And I’m ready to do this, you know? I’ve been thinking about doing this for months. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Patrick has never done this before, and David likes it. But he doesn’t know what it means, or if it means anything, and it is causing alarm bells to go off in his head, but also birds are singing and there are butterflies in his stomach. He’s very confused.

“And anyway, my parents are expecting us for dinner tonight. So, we’re here until tomorrow at least.”

“Of course, Patrick. We’ll stay. That’s no problem.”

And then Patrick, the little shit, drops his hand and says with a smirk, “you realize that means you’re stuck being my boyfriend the rest of the weekend, right?”

_Okay, so that answers that question_. Except it doesn’t really, because what about tonight, with the Brewers?

David sasses, “Well, you are a very lucky man.”

“Mmm,” Patrick grins, “well, in the interest of, uh, selling this…maybe we should talk logistics?”

“Um, yes, that would be…important. Logistics. So,” David isn’t sure where to go from here. He is usually pretty good at uncomfortable conversations, but this is like, the Mount Everest of uncomfortable conversations.

He hesitates for too long, because Patrick, pink cheeked, stammers, “Do you…?” Pauses, then tries again, “Should we…?”

David remembers that he is there this weekend to make things easier on Patrick, so he kicks himself for his cowardice and suggests, “We should probably hold hands.”

It must do something to dispel Patrick’s nerves, because he counters with, “And touch each other.” Then, obviously realizing how that sounds, he goes on, “I mean, you know, like, an arm over the shoulder or around the waist?”

“Well, it would only be natural,” David says drily. Then, because in for a penny, in for a pound, he adds one last suggestion. “And kiss.”

Patrick turns even more red. David can see the blush spreading up to the tips of his ears and down into the neckline of his button up. He’s not making eye contact, but he’s smiling a small smile.

“Yeah, uh, I mean boyfriends kiss. Right? So, yeah,” Patrick’s voice is squeakier than normal, and his sidelong glance at David is shy. Patrick is cute when he’s flustered.

David bites his lips and looks up at the ceiling to give himself a moment, then nods in agreement, saying, “Yeah. Yes, they do.”

# # #

They decide to spend the rest of the afternoon at the pool. Patrick suggests it. The reason he gives (“you said you miss that from before”) is sincere, but it is also disingenuous. Because Patrick really wants to see David in that swimsuit again. Especially now that he might be allowed to do more than just look.

They’ve been there about half an hour and Patrick is in the shallow end of the pool, elbows propped up on the side behind him, beer in hand, thankful for the dark sunglasses that allow him to stare discreetly at David’s floating form. He loves seeing David like this, so completely at ease. He’d gotten to see it yesterday as David slept in the car (and again later, but he’s not going to acknowledge his creepy voyeur moment), and here it is again. Despite everything that has happened today, his normally high-strung business partner is completely relaxed and in his element.

As Patrick lounges, thinking idly about how to convince the town council to build a pool in Schitt’s Creek, he hears the pool gate open behind him and then a loud, “Brewer!” He turns to see his old friend and teammate approaching.

“Drew!” Patrick pulls himself up out of the pool to greet his old friend with a hug and a pat on the back. “How’ve you been? It’s good to see you!”

“You too, man!” says Drew, “Things are good. You know, work, kids, the usual.”

“How are Christy and the kids? Are they here with you?”

“Yeah, they’ll be down in a bit. Henry was napping when I left the room,” Drew says, and then goes on, “Dude, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Patrick knows what’s coming, but he pretends not to. “Haven’t missed a reunion yet, man.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it. But now I owe Jack twenty bucks.” They both laugh, and Patrick thinks maybe he’s gotten away with the deflection. But no.

“People are talking, Pat. About you leaving town and ending the engagement.”

Patrick isn’t sure how to respond, and he must falter a little too long, because Drew adds, “No, no, don’t get me wrong…I’m really happy to see you, man, and everyone else will be too. Just, no one really knew what was going on with you. I just thought you’d want to know that people are talking and you’re probably going to get a lot of questions.”

Patrick laughs. The laughter bubbles up from his diaphragm and into his throat and he can’t control it. _Questions_ , he thinks. _I’m gonna get a lot of questions_. He collapses into the nearest deck chair and laughs and laughs and laughs. When he manages to get a little bit of control over himself, he sees Drew is looking at him with some trepidation, like he thinks Patrick might have lost his mind. And beyond Drew, Patrick can see David giving him a similar look over the top of his sunglasses from the pool.

“Hey David, come here,” Patrick calls out, and then watches, mesmerized, as David pulls himself up out of the pool, arms flexing and water cascading down his naked torso. Images of Phoebe Cates in Fast Times at Ridgemont High flash through Patrick’s mind, but _god this is so much better_. David makes a detour to get his towel before walking towards them, drying himself on the way.

“David, this is Drew, one of my best friends from high school. We played baseball and hockey together,” Patrick introduces.

As they shake hands, Patrick wraps his right arm around David’s bare waist and continues, “Drew, this is my boyfriend David.”

A slight widening of the eyes is the only indication that Drew is at all phased by this news, but Patrick can see him doing the calculations in his head.

“So, when I said people are talking, and you might get questions…”

“Yeah, I’m pretty prepared for that this weekend,” Patrick answers with a laugh, tightening the arm around David’s waist and leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek. Because that’s something he’s allowed to do right now. The thought makes him feel giddy.

They sit down, the three of them, around one of the little plastic tables in the pool area. Patrick grabs them all some beers out of their small cooler, then proceeds to tell Drew an expurgated version of the last four months or so of his life. He keeps one hand on David through the whole story, rubbing his fingers lightly across the back of his neck, or the back of his hand, or, once, rather brazenly resting a hand on his bare knee.

“So,” Drew says when Patrick reaches the end of his story, “you told Rachel at lunch, and then what? She walked out?”

“Yeah. She was pretty upset.”

“But, did she _leave_ leave? Or is she still here? What are you going to say to her if you run into her again?”

Patrick knows Rachel is likely still here. He had said as much to David earlier. But he has not thought about what he might say to Rachel if they run into each other again this weekend. He’s been too high on the fact that he and David are, well… doing this thing they are doing. Before he has a chance to formulate a response, Drew’s wife Christy arrives at the pool with Henry and Lucy, and Drew excuses himself to go play with his kids.

What _is_ he going to say if (when) they run into Rachel again? It will largely depend on her. If she is still in her denial phase, he’ll have to be firm, discouraging, maybe even a little bit mean. If she’s moved past that, they will be able to talk. He hopes before the weekend is over she will accept his truth and he’ll be able to say the things he wants to say to her. If not, well, at least he can say that he tried.

Patrick is eased out of his ruminations by the awareness of David’s fingers lightly rubbing his scalp. He finds himself closing his eyes and leaning into it, and hears a low ‘mmmmmm’ escape his throat without his permission. He startles, and opens his eyes to see David giving him an adorable sideways grin. And then David’s large hand is covering both the back of his neck and the side of his face as he pulls him in, closer and closer, until his mouth, soft and warm and perfect, is pressed against his, and Patrick wants to live in this moment forever. Far too soon, David is pulling away and giving him the softest look Patrick has ever seen on his beautiful face.

The look is fleeting and is replaced by something less serene. “Was that okay?” David asks quietly. “I just thought,” he rushes on, “people kiss when they think other people aren’t looking. But we want to _sell_ this, so it makes sense to kiss when other people are _around_ , and Drew and Christy are _right there_ , and…”

“David,” Patrick interrupts, grabbing his hand, “it’s fine. It was perfect.” _But it’s not perfect, is it?_ Patrick thinks. Perfect would be if David actually wanted to kiss him and wasn’t just doing it because of their charade. _It’s not real, Brewer. He’s doing you the favor of a lifetime. Don’t be greedy._

David’s tolerance of small children and splashing is limited, so they head up to the room, calling out _goodbyes_ and _see you tomorrows_ to Drew and Christy and the kids, explaining that they won’t be at tonight’s mixer because they are going to visit Patrick’s parents.

Drew is disappointed (“You haven’t even seen the guys yet, Brewer!”), but ultimately understanding, especially when Patrick explains that he plans to come out to his parents at dinner. Anyway, they have tomorrow.

Back in their room, Patrick let’s David take first shower. They both know he needs at least twice as long as Patrick to get ready for their evening. As Patrick awaits his turn, he lets himself relive that kiss. His first kiss with a man. His first kiss with David. His first kiss that felt the way kisses were supposed to feel. As he replays the kiss in his mind, he replays, too, the look on David’s face just after the kiss. And just for a little while, just for the duration of David’s shower, Patrick lets himself hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some Clint and Marcy!


	4. A Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys visit the very perceptive Brewers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'ed, as per usual.

On the way to Patrick’s parents’ house, they decide that there is no need for their charade with the Brewers. “Tonight is supposed to be about telling my parents the truth. I don’t want to ruin that with a lie,” Patrick explains. He looks oddly sad, but David supposes he's just feeling a lot of emotions about the upcoming evening.

At any rate, Patrick insists when David worries that it is weird for him to be here, the Brewers will be thrilled to meet David as his business partner and friend.

It is 7 o’clock on the dot when they pull into the driveway of a red brick rancher with a small porch and a box hedge along the front. David opens his door and is halfway out of the car when he notices that Patrick has not even taken his seat belt off yet. He sits back down and looks at the other man, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right? If you’re not ready, you-”

“No. I’m ready. I’m just nervous.” Patrick finally lets go of the steering wheel. His hands fall to his lap and he looks down at them as he speaks. “I know my parents are good people, David. But what if this doesn’t go the way I think it will? What if it changes everything?” Patrick looks up at him then and David can see the fear in his eyes and the set of his jaw.

He reaches over and takes Patrick’s right hand before replying, “Then I will be here with you and we will get through it. You are not alone. It’s going to be okay.”

Patrick takes a deep breath and lets it out, smiling at him with the corners of his mouth turned down. David loves that smile. “Thank you, David. Let’s do this.”

Clint and Marcy Brewer are delightful. Marcy wants to hear all about the store, their friendship, Patrick’s life in Schitt’s Creek. Clint is more reserved, but David can see that he is just as relieved as Marcy to have their son home again.

Their exuberance carries the four of them through salad, pot roast, and an absolutely out of this world strawberry rhubarb pie, after which David suggests he take care of the dishes and let the Brewers catch up. Patrick throws him a look of sheer terror.

“I’ll help David with the dishes, mom. Why don’t you and dad take the wine out on the porch and we’ll be out in a minute?”

“Okay, sweet boy,” Marcy smiles and pats her son’s cheek before she heads to the porch with the bottle of red David had brought as a hostess gift, “I got most of the pots and pans in the dishwasher before you got here. Just throw the rest in with them and turn it on. We haven’t seen you in ages, I don’t want you in here all night doing dishes.”

David follows Patrick into the kitchen. “Sorry,” he hisses. “We should have talked logistics. I figured you wouldn’t want me hovering while you have this conversation.”

“No, no. That’s okay. But, no, I need you to be there. Will you be there? Please?”

“Of course, Patrick,” David says, nodding rapidly, as he’s wont to do when nervous. They throw the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, grab their own wine glasses, and head out to the porch. Before they walk out the door, David puts a hand on Patrick’s shoulder, gives a quick squeeze of support, and whispers, “Not alone.”

# # #

David’s hand on his shoulder is warm and comforting and gone too quickly. Patrick opens the screen door and steps out onto the porch to join his parents. They are seated in the two rocking chairs, so Patrick sits on the porch swing. David picks up the wine bottle from the little table between the rocking chairs and tops off everyone’s glasses before sitting next to Patrick on the swing. Just as it had in the store all those weeks ago, David’s presence calms Patrick, helping his mind to settle.

“It’s nice to be home,” he begins.

“We’re so glad you’re here sweetie. I know you had your reasons for leaving, but…,” his mom trails off, but then continues in a different tone, less cheerful and more worried. “Sweetheart, was it something we did? Did Rachel cheat on you? What-…?”

“Marcy,” his dad interrupts calmly, but firmly. “He’s an adult and he doesn’t owe us an explanation.”

Patrick speaks up before his mom has a chance to respond. “But I do, dad. I want to explain.” He manages to make eye contact, first with his father, then with his mother, but then has to look away again before he can continue. He focuses all his attention on David’s left hand where it is resting on a denim-clad knee. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and forges on. “Mom, dad, I- I’m gay. That’s, uh, that’s why I ended things with Rachel.”

There is so much more to say, but he can’t go on until he knows how they are going to react to this first part. He looks up at the sound of his mother getting out of her chair. She is coming towards him, arms open and then he is standing, wrapped in her arms. His cheeks are wet. “Oh, my sweet boy,” she is saying, “Thank you for telling us. I know that must have been so hard.”

“Dad?” Patrick looks over his mother’s shoulder at his father’s face aglow with the light of the moon and the porch light.

“We love you, son. Unconditionally. We just want you to be happy.” His father’s eyes are sparkling with unshed tears. Patrick lets go of his mother and steps across the porch to where his father has risen from his chair. His father’s arms around him take him back to his childhood, skinned knees and baseball trophies, all the triumphs and disappointments of growing up. A small sob escapes him, even as he says, “I’m happy, Dad.”

His father releases him with a pat on the back and returns to his rocking chair. Turning to the porch swing, Patrick makes eye contact with David. His lips are tucked in with suppressed emotion and his eyes, like his dad’s, are shimmering. He looks proud and it makes Patrick feel ten feet tall.

They stay out on the porch for another hour and finish off the bottle of wine. Patrick tells his parents everything. He explains how he left Rachel without an explanation because he _knew_ , but wasn’t quite ready to come to terms with it, or put words to it, at the time. How he felt trapped in his life and his job. How he needed a place where he could start over and learn about himself without anyone else’s input. And as he talks, he drifts closer and closer to David’s warmth so that by the end of the night his shoulder and hip and leg are flush against the other man. He feels lighter than he has in months, as though a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He is so wrapped up in his own contentment that he doesn’t notice how David has leaned into him in the same way that he has leaned into David. He doesn’t notice David’s soft smile. And he doesn’t notice the little looks his parents give each other as they watch their son and his business partner not-quite-snuggling on the porch swing under the stars.

When it is time to leave, they part with hugs all around. His mom is a hugger, so Patrick is not surprised when she hugs David, though David certainly looks taken aback. But Patrick is shocked to see his father pull David into a bear hug and whisper something in his ear. Later, when David refuses to tell him what his father said, Patrick is only mildly put out. The night has gone so well, he’s too happy to be bothered about it.

# # #

They are sitting on Patrick’s bed, watching Pretty Woman on David’s laptop because, inexplicably, Patrick has never seen it. It is difficult, with room service trays in front of them, to position the laptop comfortably for both of them to see. So, when they finish eating, Patrick promptly removes the trays and sets them out in the hallway to be picked up. While he is up, David props two pillows against the headboard and leans against them, stretching his legs out in front of him. He places the laptop on his legs, and then props the other two bed pillows against the headboard right next to his own. This, he reasons, will make it easier for them both to watch the laptop.

He is not wrong. The new position makes watching the movie far more comfortable. If it has the added effect of making Patrick lean against him, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip on the bed, well, that can’t be helped.

By the time Richard Gere climbs Julia Roberts’s fire escape, Patrick is asleep, his head resting against David’s shoulder.

David closes his eyes, not to sleep, but rather to savor. He wants to remember the feel of Patrick’s body relaxed against his in case this is the only time he gets to feel it. Patrick’s hair is tickling his cheek and he can feel the man’s soft breaths on his neck. David loves this. Loves Patrick being snuggled up against him like this. It is comfortable in a way David has never been before.

Unfortunately, David knows he can’t sleep with the laptop on his knees. He hasn’t even done his skin care routine, or brushed his teeth. He’s going to have to wake Patrick and send him to his own bed.

He places a hand on Patrick’s knee and shakes it gently. Patrick stirs just enough to settle more firmly into place, flopping one arm over David’s stomach. David lets out an embarrassing whimper. How can he be expected to resist this? All he wants to do is fall asleep with Patrick’s arm around him. To breathe in his scent and feel the warmth of his compact body beside him all night.

But David has to impress a bunch of strangers tomorrow, so skipping his skin care just will not do.

“Patrick?” David says tentatively while tapping on the arm draped over his middle. “Patrick, wake up. It’s time for bed.”

Patrick startles awake, but it must take him a few moments to orient because his arm and his head both stay firmly in place for longer than David expects.

“Oh, sorry,” Patrick says and extricates himself. David lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“It’s fine. Do you want the bathroom first? I might take a while…I have a, uh, a whole routine,” David says, gesticulating probably too wildly.

“Yeah, of course,” Patrick answers sleepily, “I’ll just be a minute.” He heads into the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later David crawls back into his bed quietly so as not to wake Patrick. For a long time, he lies on his side, with the light on, facing the other bed and the man lying there. He thinks about how it felt to have Patrick asleep on his shoulder. He thinks about what tomorrow might bring and whether he will actually be of any use to his friend this weekend. And for a long time, he daydreams about a future in which Patrick falls asleep on his shoulder as a matter of course.

Eventually, he realizes he is having trouble keeping his eyes open, so he turns off the bedside lamp and rolls to his other side to sleep. He dreams of brown eyes and broad shoulders and soft smiles with the corners turned down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, more kissing...and the baseball. It is a varsity reunion, after all.


	5. A Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys kiss and touch a lot, Rachel returns, and it is always the 7th inning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story began as an entry into the SC Sports Fest, but I couldn't finish it in time. So here are the sports.
> 
> We all know that Schitt's Creek exists in some kind of wibbly-wobbly time vortex, and _that_ is why the baseball consists of nothing but 7th-inning stretches. Not because I don't know how to write about baseball. ;)

Patrick’s stomach is doing somersaults as he walks towards Ballroom G for the second time in 24 hours, this time holding David’s hand.

He’s been awake for hours, daydreaming about this. Actually, for the first hour of the morning he’d been daydreaming about climbing into David’s bed and kissing him awake and…other things. But this is reality, not fantasy, so then he’d decided to make a plan. David had said yesterday that they should kiss when people are around, but not necessarily looking, because it would seem more natural. So Patrick had thought about the day ahead and made a list of opportunities to kiss David. The earliest opportunity he could think of was this one, walking into breakfast.

When they reach the door, David heads straight for the food table, but Patrick stops in the doorway, tightens his grip on David’s hand, and hauls him back. He places David’s hand on his own waist, slides his own hand up David’s arm to cup his jaw, fingers snaking into his hair, and pulls him down into a kiss. _It worked!_ Patrick thinks. He feels a teensy bit proud of pulling off such a suave move.

Their lips meet only briefly before David is pulling back and Patrick thinks maybe this was too much, that maybe he was over-reaching.

But then, almost instantly, David is pulling him back in, the hand on his waist sliding more solidly around his lower back, and he’s kissing him again, still fairly chastely, but with more heat this time.

They are interrupted by a wolf whistle and Patrick looks up to see Drew grinning at him from a table in the middle of the room where he is seated with several of their old teammates and their wives and girlfriends. Patrick can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, but he pulls David resolutely over to the table to greet his old friends.

This is the part he has been afraid of. These guys were his closest friends in high school, but as much as he knows about them, he doesn’t know how they are going to react to him being gay. And now they have just seen him, with their own eyes, kissing a man. This is it. Before he can overthink it, though, Drew stands up from the table and gives him a hug and pats him on the back, shakes David’s hand with a “good to see you again, man,” and gives Patrick a little nod of encouragement. And it helps. Patrick feels calmer. He turns to the rest of the table, places his hand on the small of David’s back, and says, pointing to each person in turn, “David, you already know Drew and Christy and the kids. This is Sam and his wife Katie, Jack and his girlfriend Em-“

“Fiancée,” the blonde interrupts, holding out her left hand and grinning up at him.

“Fiancée, wow, congratulations guys!” Patrick says with a smile before continuing the introductions, “his _fiancée_ Emily, and that,” pointing at the only single guy at the table, “is Michael.” Then, with only a slight break in his voice, he continues, “Guys, this is my boyfriend, David.”

To his utter astonishment, everyone at the table greets David warmly, as though Patrick hasn’t just dropped a bombshell on the table. He is taken aback. If he’s honest with himself, he’s maybe a little disappointed? Like, surely his friends should at least _care_ that he just came out to them. Right? But then he makes eye contact with Christy, who winks at him, and he gets it.

“We’re gonna go grab some food, but we’ll be back,” Patrick tells his friends. He still has his hand on David’s lower back, so he uses it to guide him toward the buffet.

“That went well,” David observes in a pleased tone.

“I think Drew and Christy might have tipped them off.”

“You mean they outed you?!” David’s tone changes from pleased to quietly outraged in an instant. His eyebrows go up and Patrick can tell he is ready for a fight. On his behalf. And boy does that give him feelings.

“David, it’s okay. That is kind of why I’m here, right?” he tries to be soothing as he piles eggs and bacon on a plate.

“It’s just…coming out is something you should only do on your terms,” David persists, pouring an alarming amount of maple syrup on a stack of pancakes, “and I don’t like the idea that they took that from you.”

Patrick’s heart swells. He knows that David is protective of the people he cares about, and that he probably just cares about Patrick as a friend; but it feels good to have David ready to go to bat for him.

“It’s fine, David. I promise,” he says. But when they return to the table, Patrick can feel the tension radiating from David. That is, until Sam says, “When Drew said you had big news, Brewer, we just figured you’d gotten back with Rachel. This,” and he waves his fork in their direction, “is kind of a relief.” They hadn’t actually outed him, then.

Still, Patrick doesn’t know what to make of Sam’s comment, and from the expression on David’s face, neither does he. “A relief?” he says finally, hearing the croak in his voice.

Sam explains, “Yeah, man. We were just saying, this is the happiest we’ve seen you in years. No offence, but you and Rachel never looked this happy to be together.” Looking around the table, he sees that everyone is nodding in agreement and he can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face.

He looks over at David who is smiling back at him, lips pulled to one side like he does when he’s trying not to smile. He looks fond, and Patrick just wants to bask in it. Instead, he places his left hand on David’s right knee, leans over, and ghosts his lips across David’s. He pulls back and gives David an equally fond look and doesn’t break eye contact as he answers Sam, “I am happy. Really happy.” And he means it. His parents and his friends know now, and they all only care that he’s happy. It’s more than he could have hoped for.

He breaks eye contact with David and turns his attention back to his eggs as the conversation turns to other things. His hand stays on David’s knee for the remainder of breakfast. When David finishes his pancakes and moves his right arm to rest across the back of Patrick’s chair, Patrick can’t help but lean into David and place a kiss just below his ear. Before he pulls away, he takes a deep breath, nose pressed against David’s jaw. David smells of the rosemary bergamot body milk they just got in for the store, and underneath that, something indescribably masculine that Patrick thinks is just David. He allows himself a moment to revel in it.

And then breakfast is over. Everyone is moving at once, eager to start the rest of the day. They have a few minutes to go back to their rooms and get their gear before the games begin.

Patrick pushes his chair back, stands up, and holds his hand out to David. “Ready?”

David stands too and takes his hand with a soft smile as they head up to the room.

# # #

Since breakfast, David has gotten to touch Patrick exactly three more times. The first time was, surprisingly, up in their room. They’d gone up after breakfast to get Patrick’s glove and catcher’s gear, and to put on sunscreen. David had watched Patrick apply his, half hoping he would do a bad job so that David could offer his assistance. But Patrick obviously knew what he was doing. He supposed you couldn’t spend a lifetime playing outdoor sports with blindingly pale skin and not know how to properly apply sunscreen.

Just as David had given up hope, Patrick had cleared his throat and said, “uh, would you mind helping me out here? I always end up burned around the edges of my collar. I guess my shirt moves around more than I expect it to and I’m not very good at getting the lotion far enough under the shirt.”

David still can’t believe that he had had the nerve to say what came out of his mouth the next moment. “That is because you’re trying to do it with the shirt still on. Take it off.”

Patrick had turned a bright shade of pink at that, but he’d complied, pulling the shirt over his head by the collar, tossing it on the bed, and looking up at David expectantly.

David had nearly choked at that look. “Um, turn around? So I can get your shoulders?” David’s heart was in his throat as Patrick turned his back to him, all pale skin and taut muscles. David had squirted a large dollop of sunscreen onto his palm, rubbed his hands together to warm it, and then closed his eyes as his hands touched Patrick’s broad, naked shoulders for the first time. He’d slowly rubbed the lotion in from Patrick’s neck out to the tops of his arms, and all across the top part of his back, taking care not to miss any spots. Patrick’s skin was flushed and warm under his hands, and David had tried not to think about other scenarios in which he could have his hands on that warm, flushed skin. He had stepped away abruptly and in a voice that sounded overly bright to his own ears, said, “All done. Ready to go?”

That was the first time. The second time was a couple of hours later, during a break in Patrick’s first baseball game of the day. “It’s called a seventh-inning stretch, David,” Patrick had told him as he sat down in front of David and asked for his help reapplying his sunscreen. David hadn’t felt right about asking Patrick to disrobe in broad daylight in the middle of the baseball courts, so instead he ran his hands under Patrick’s collar and, for good measure, up the openings of his sleeves so that the tops of his arms wouldn’t burn either. When he was done, Patrick had turned around, leaned in, and kissed him before jumping up to rejoin the game.

When they had arrived at the baseball fields that morning, Patrick had joined his friends on the field to play their first game against a group of older generation graduates. David had set himself up under a tree atop a fugly red and brown plaid, fleece blanket that Patrick had happened to have in the trunk of his car. He was dressed comfortably in his black cropped joggers, a white t-shirt with vampire fangs, black Rick Owens sneakers, and his favorite over-sized white sunglasses.

He had spent the morning half-reading the latest Elly Griffiths mystery he’d picked up from the Elmdale library, and half-watching Patrick who was squatting(!!) behind a succession of batters on the baseball pitch. It was a nice view. _No wonder Patrick has such nice thighs_ , David thought.

When the game had ended, Patrick had come over to David’s tree, accompanied by the whole gang from breakfast, significant others and kids included. Instead of sitting next to him, as David expected, Patrick had laid down on his back with his head in David’s lap, beaming up at him like he hung the goddamn moon.

That is how they ended up here, with David’s hands on Patrick for the third time since breakfast, fingertips running lightly through short hair. He is feeling a mixture of shock, elation and, well, hunger because it’s lunch time and someone has started grilling burgers nearby that David hopes are for the reunion attendees.

Unexpectedly, he also feels at ease. More at ease than he has felt in a long time, despite sitting amidst a bunch of relative strangers. So at ease, in fact, that he forgets to be embarrassed when his stomach growls right next to Patrick’s ear. Patrick laughs and asks, “Hungry, David?”

“Well, it is lunch time. And those burgers smell really good, so….”

Patrick gets effortlessly to his feet and puts out a hand to help him up. Once up, David can’t resist leaning in for a kiss. Because Patrick is an astonishingly good kisser. Even the relatively chaste kisses they have shared so far feel full of meaning. Which, of course, they aren’t, but it still makes David’s knees weak and he’s going to enjoy it while he can.

After lunch, and a lot more casual touches and kisses that have David’s insides feeling like he’s swallowed a gallon of pop rocks, the guys go back out for the second game of the day. To David’s surprise, the girls stay with him under the tree. Of course, that means Drew and Christy’s kids stay too, but David is surprised to find that he doesn’t really mind. He’s having fun.

“So, David, tell us how you and Patrick met,” says Katie. Sam and Christy nod, eagerly.

Crap. They haven’t talked about their backstory. Still, he has to say something. So he sticks as close to the truth as he can and hopes he has a chance to tell Patrick before someone asks him the same question and they contradict each other. He tells about their first meeting at Ray’s house and all about the store. The girls giggle and awwww when David tells about Patrick saying he was “gonna get the money” and how it was the sexiest thing David had ever heard. He won’t tell Patrick about that part of the story, although it is just as true as the rest of it.

He decides to gloss over the specifics of their first kiss and hope they won’t notice. Instead, he says simply, “the first time we kissed…. It was the best kiss of my life.” This, again, is the truth. They don’t need to know that said kiss happened yesterday by the pool.

“Awww, that’s so sweet! It’s just so nice to see Patrick so happy,” says Emily.

“Yeah. You know, I don’t think I saw him lay his head in Rachel’s lap once in all the time I’ve known them,” Katie adds.

Christy chimes in, “God, no. Honestly, I just figured he wasn’t a very openly affectionate person.” She huffs a soft laugh and adds, “Obviously I was wrong,” followed by, “Lucy! Don’t put that in your mouth,” as she runs off to do damage control.

“Speak of the devil,” says Katie looking over David’s shoulder. Before David can process that, he hears Rachel’s voice. “Hi Katie! Emily,” she says cheerfully enough. “Would you guys mind if I talk to David alone for a minute?”

David looks first at Emily, then at Katie. He doesn’t know what his face is doing, but he knows it’s nothing good.

Emily smiles at him, both encouraging and apologetic, and says, “I need another beer, anyway. C’mon Katie, we can take one to Christy, too.” And they are gone.

Rachel sits down on the blanket next to David without an invitation. David tenses. He tries to remember everything Twyla has ever taught him about relaxation, but it won’t come.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel says. “About yesterday.”

That is…not what he was expecting.

“Sorry?” David asks. Because she owes Patrick an apology, not David.

“I was rude to you when we met. I just left, right after you introduced yourself. And I’m sorry,” she explains.

Was that true? David thinks back and realizes he has no idea. He had been freaking out so much about what he was doing, and so intent on making sure Patrick was okay, that he hadn’t noticed Rachel after they had shaken hands.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I think maybe you owe Patrick an apology, though.”

She huffs a little laugh. It’s a hollow, nervous sound. “He told you everything, I guess?”

David nods. She doesn’t need to know he was eavesdropping on their conversation yesterday. And Patrick _had_ talked to him about it after, so it wasn’t a complete lie.

“I’m really embarrassed,” she says. “I’m not great at handling shocks, like, in the moment. If that makes sense?” David nods and she continues, “I’ve had some time now, though, to process it and…I guess it’s really not that surprising. I mean, I was shocked, obviously. But more because it was something I feared, deep down, than because I was particularly surprised?”

David can understand relationship fear. Can understand being afraid of a truth that would make it impossible to even hope for reconciliation with someone you love. Not that he’s ever loved anyone like that, but still.

“I get that. The fear, I mean,” he says looking down at her, and she smiles at him, clearly relieved.

He looks over to the baseball and makes eye contact with Patrick, out in the grass beyond the bases. He looks like he’s ready to stop the game and come to his rescue. David shakes his head at him and gives him a little wave. Patrick must understand, because he goes back to the game; but David can see that his attention is not on the game the rest of the time he’s in the field. Luckily, it is the seventh inning, so there is a break in the game and Patrick heads towards them. David can tell he is nervous, so he stands up and greets Patrick with a hug. Patrick hugs him back, kissing a spot on his neck as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. David nearly swoons. Then he sits back down next to Rachel, pulling Patrick down to sit on his other side.

“Hi Patrick,” says Rachel quietly.

“Hi Rach,” Patrick replies, reaching over to squeeze David’s hand, lacing their fingers together. David squeezes back and hopes Patrick finds comfort in the gesture.

“I just came over to say sorry about how I reacted yesterday. I was in shock, and I’m really sorry that I sounded like I didn’t believe you.” She hesitates before going on, “You just confirmed something I’d been afraid of for so long, Patty, and I didn’t want to hear it, so I kind of just, didn’t…. Hear it. You know?”

Patrick’s grip tightens on David’s hand. He looks stunned and when he speaks his voice cracks. “You…you were afraid I was gay?”

“Deep down, yeah, but I didn’t let myself look at it too hard,” Rachel says gently. “Every time you left, I thought, if you were just not that into sex, I could live with that, and maybe you would come back. But if you were gay, well, then…,” she pauses, and then continues in almost a whisper, “you wouldn’t come back.”

“Oh, Rach, I’m sorry,” Patrick says. “I’m not sorry I left, because I needed to, for both of our sakes. But I’m sorry for the way I did it. I am so sorry I hurt you.”

“It’s okay, Patrick. Well, it’s not. But it will be,” Rachel smiles a watery smile at them both. “And hey, it’s good to see you so happy. You weren’t happy. Before.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“No. No, I wasn’t,” Patrick admits, “But I am now.” And with that he gives David a brief, but radiant, smile.

Rachel excuses herself, saying that she hopes to see them at the party that evening, and Patrick returns to the field for the end of the game. David stays under his tree and thinks. He thinks about Patrick laying his head in his lap that morning. ( _I don’t think I saw him lay his head in Rachel’s lap in all the time I’ve known them._ ) He thinks about the dozens of times Patrick has kissed his cheek, or reached for his hand, or put a hand on his knee today ( _I just figured he wasn’t a very openly affectionate person._ ) He thinks about these things and finds that he cannot stop the hope that bubbles up within him. He knows he needs to fight it off, to keep it from staking its claim on him. But for now, as long as he is sitting on this blanket, under this tree, he will let it be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up...sexy times. *eggplant emoji*


	6. A Declaration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times! But first, Earnest!Patrick has something to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented, kudo'ed, and subscribed. I see all of you, and I cannot tell you how much your encouragement means to me. This fandom is awesome!
> 
> This is the longest chapter of the story. The final chapter will post on Saturday unless the world implodes.

Patrick cannot take his eyes off of the animated man sitting across from him. They are eating dinner at an Italian bistro and David is telling him a story. He’s wearing a black and white striped [button up with a longer bit in the back](https://www.therealreal.com/products/men/clothing/casual-shirts/dries-van-noten-striped-long-sleeve-shirt-7ronc?position=1), and black jeans so tight Patrick is not sure how he is comfortably sitting and eating. The story is something about Alexis and an Italian restaurant in New York that turned out to be a front for the mafia, but Patrick is only half listening. He is focused not on the words, but on the cadence, the way that David accentuates the story with his hands and facial expressions. _He is beautiful_ , Patrick thinks as he sips his wine.

“Patrick?”

“Huh?” He must have missed something because David is looking at him with a concerned expression.

“I asked if you wanted to get dessert. Where’d you go there?”

“Sorry. Nowhere, really. I was just thinking. And sure, dessert sounds great.” He calls the waiter over. David orders the tiramisu and Patrick gets cheesecake.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Oh, um, just about how well this weekend has gone so far. And how lucky I am,” Patrick says. It’s a lie, but it’s a plausible one. _Maybe I should just tell him the truth_ , he thinks. And for the first time, he thinks he might be brave enough to do it. This weekend has made him feel brave. David has made him brave.

“Mmm, it has gone really well, hasn’t it? I’m really happy for you, Patrick.”

“Thank you, David. For everything,” Patrick says, reaching out to take David’s right hand. “I don’t think I could have done this without you, so, thank you.” Patrick looks at the rings on the hand he’s holding, starts playing with them. _Here goes nothing_ , he thinks, then says, “David, there’s something—,”

At that moment the waiter arrives with their desserts, interrupting Patrick. David beams down at his tiramisu, oblivious to Patrick’s inner turmoil. Patrick watches him take a bite and then nearly has a heart attack at the frankly obscene noise it pulls from David’s throat. He flushes, takes a deep breath, and focuses on his cheesecake. _It’s probably for the best_ , he tells himself, _I would just be embarrassing myself_.

# # #

“God David, you’re so handsome.” Patrick is drunk. He obviously wouldn’t be saying something like that if he were sober, though David doesn’t remember him having more than a couple of glasses of wine with dinner and two fingers of whisky when they arrived at the party. He should really get him a glass of water.

“We need to get you some water,” David says. They are on the dance floor, swaying to Ed Sheeran. Patrick’s hands are on David’s waist and David’s arms are draped over Patrick’s shoulders. _Like they belong there_ , David thinks, not for the first time.

“I don’t need water. I’m not drunk,” Patrick insists. And god does David want to believe him, but he’s over annunciating, and just moments later he trips over his own foot.

“OK, maybe I’m a little drunk. And clumsy. But I know what I’m saying. I’m just drunk enough to not be scared of saying it.”

David looks down into Patrick’s eyes. “And what, uh, what, exactly, is it that you’re saying?”

“David,” Patrick says, looking up at him with more sincerity in his big doe eyes than David can handle, “I really, really like you.”

With that, Patrick places one hand on either side of David’s face and then he is kissing him, and David feels like he might die. Or float away. And, oh David wants this, wants what Patrick just said to be true. So, he lingers in the kiss for a while before he pulls back.

“Patrick,” his voice comes out squeakier than he would like so he clears his throat and tries again, “Patrick, you’re-,”

But Patrick cuts him off with another kiss, chaste but passionate. Then he pulls back and says, “I swear to god, David, if you tell me I’m drunk, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” David can’t resist teasing a bit. It grounds him in normality.

This seems to get Patrick’s attention because now he’s looking up at David with a serious expression. He says, “Tell you what. I’ve had two glasses of wine and one glass of whisky tonight. If I stop drinking now, how long will it take before you’ll consider me sober enough to believe me?”

David doesn’t know what to do with an offer like that, so he teases again. “Sober? Two hours. Believable? Mmm, I don’t know about that one.” It’s weak and he knows it.

Patrick smirks up at him and says, “Two hours. Okay. That puts us at midnight. We’ll talk about this again then. I promise not to turn into a pumpkin.”

“Okay, Patrick.”

“Okay, David. Oh, and you can’t drink for the next two hours either.”

“What?! That’s not fair!”

Patrick pulls back from their swaying dance, reaching back to take David’s hands from his shoulders and holding them up to his chest. He looks at him earnestly and says, “David, we are both going to be stone cold sober for this conversation.”

It’s the same voice he used when he told David he was going to get the money for the store and it is just as sexy this time around.

David can’t decide if a sober conversation about this _thing_ between them sounds ominous or promising. The next two hours are going to be torture. He pulls his lips between his teeth to suppress what might be a grin or a grimace, then pulls Patrick back into him by the shoulders. He will let himself enjoy this for a little bit longer before Patrick sobers up, gets embarrassed, and tells him he regrets what he said.

“Okay.”

At least he’s done the right thing in pressing pause on this. He is proud of himself for that, even if he also kind of hates himself for it.

# # #

Patrick doesn’t know where this bravado is coming from, but it feels good. He feels like he is on fire with wanting David, but also like he is completely in control. For once in his life he knows exactly what he wants and feels confident enough to pursue it. Because that kiss they just shared…that was not pretend. David’s not pretending. Patrick knows it as sure as he knows himself. So, he is going to keep being brave, both because of David and for David.

The music changes to something upbeat. Neither of them is in the mood for that kind of dancing, so Patrick offers to go and get them water or something. David gives him a resigned look and asks for a soda with lime, and Patrick goes to the bar.

As he waits for the bartender, he watches David sitting at a table across the room and thinks about what exactly he wants to say at midnight. He wants David to know that this isn’t just physical, that this feeling is deeper and more real than that. He also wants David to know that this is not a new feeling. That it started the moment David walked into Ray’s living room and handed him the deli ticket he still has tucked into his wallet. And that gives him an idea.

Drinks in hand, Patrick heads back across the room to David, who has been joined at his table by Sam, Katie, and Michael. The rest of the gang is on the dance floor. The conversation is light and easy, so Patrick doesn’t have time to overthink things or get nervous.

But he keeps an eye on his phone through the whole conversation, and at exactly midnight, Patrick makes his excuses to the group and puts a hand out for David, who takes it as he gets to his feet and says his goodbyes.

Now that the moment is here, Patrick is still feeling brave, but also a little nervous. When they are out of the ballroom, David tries to let go of his hand, but Patrick doesn’t let him. Instead, he pulls David along behind him toward the door to the pool. He doesn’t want to have this conversation in their hotel room, afraid that the presence of the beds will loom too large in their minds.

The pool is lit up by underwater lights, but otherwise it is dark. As Patrick had hoped, they have the space to themselves. He lets go of David’s hand and, without a word, pulls two chairs to face each other. He gestures for David to sit, then sits across from him in the other chair, close enough that their knees bump.

He has not looked at David’s face since they left the ballroom, but he does now. He reaches out and takes both of David’s hands in his and looks up to catch his eyes. David looks…Patrick isn’t sure…emotional, yes, but too many emotions to identify.

“Are you sober?” Patrick begins, not breaking eye contact.

“Yes.” It is practically a whisper, but Patrick hears it.

“Do you believe me when I say that I am completely sober right now?”

“Yes.” A little stronger this time, and with a slight nod.

Patrick lets go of David’s hands, reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out his wallet. He pulls out a small piece of paper with B13 printed on the front. He holds it in front of him and, when he finally speaks, he directs his words at the ticket. He is brave, yes, but he doesn’t think he can get through this if he has to watch all of the emotions floating across David’s face while he talks.

“This ticket has been in my wallet for three months,” Patrick says. “Since the day you handed it to me in Ray’s living room.”

He hears David’s breath catch, but keeps going. “I had never been attracted to anyone the way I was, the way I am, to you.”

There is a tear running down David’s left cheek, but he looks more relieved than disgusted, and anyway, Patrick can’t stop now. “But I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. As wildly, unbearably attracted as I am to you physically - and David I really, really am - I’m also wildly, unbearably attracted to everything else about you, too. You are smart, and funny, and good, so I’m going to say it again. What I said before. David, I _really, really_ like you.”

Now David is reaching out for him, choking out a sob and asking, “Are you sure?”

Patrick takes his hands and, standing, hauls David to his feet and kisses him. The kiss starts out desperate and searching, with hands grabbing and lips bruising. After a few moments, Patrick softens the kiss so that he can pull back and answer.

“I’m so sure, David. What about you? Are you sure?”

In response, David pulls him into a quick but searing kiss and growls, “Let’s go to the room.”

# # #

David’s mind is reeling, his heart is about to beat out of his chest and, despite his tear-streaked face, he has never been happier in his life. Patrick wants him. And he wants Patrick. And they are about to walk, together, through the door of their shared hotel room where there is a bed and privacy.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Patrick pins him against it, kissing him and rocking their hips together. He can feel Patrick, hard against his thigh, and he moans into the kiss. Inexplicably, this causes Patrick to pull away. _Shit_ , David thinks, _that was too much. I’ve scared him off_.

But Patrick is pulling him toward the bed now, and running his hand through his hair in that adorable way he does when he’s embarrassed about something, so David pulls himself out of his momentary panic.

“I’ve, uh, I’ve never actually done this before,” Patrick says, blushing to the tips of his ears. And oh, right, David should have known this. Had known, of course, but has been too caught up in everything to think about it until right now.

“That’s okay,” he says in what he hopes is a reassuring voice, “we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Thank you, David,” Patrick responds. “I do want to, I’m just nervous that I’m not going to be, you know, good. For you.” He pauses, then looks at his hands and finishes in a rush, “I want it to be good for you.”

“Well. That is very sweet.” David thinks that may have come out more condescending than reassuring, so he shakes his head and goes on, “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Patrick makes a noise that might be disbelieving or self-abasing.

David knows what Patrick needs to hear. And Patrick has been so brave this weekend that David thinks he can do the same for him, so he says, “You said all those lovely things before. In the interest of fairness, if we’re being honest, there are some things I should probably say, too.”

He turns toward Patrick on the edge of the bed and takes both his hands, drawing them into his own lap and focusing on them as he speaks. “I have wanted you since the day you offered to go into business with me.”

He looks up toward the ceiling to blink back the tears threatening to fall. “I have never known anyone like you, Patrick Brewer, and I feel so lucky that you are my business partner, and my friend, but…I want…more than that…with you.”

The last part of that barely came out as a whisper, and David knows he should stop there, but he can’t help finishing up, lamely, “I mean, you know, if that’s what _you_ want.”

Luckily, Patrick seems unphased by his lameness, because now he is ghosting his lips across David’s and saying, “That’s what I want, too, David,” before finally pressing their lips together again.

But David has one more question he needs (well, wants desperately) to ask, so he pulls away again, enough to make eye contact with Patrick. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”

“David,” Patrick rolls his eyes at the interruption, but seems to seriously consider before answering. “I don’t know…I’m new to all this. And you’re…,” he waves his hands at David in an encompassing gesture, “you know.”

“A lot,” David grimaces. He knew it was coming eventually.

“What? No! You’re _gorgeous_. And sexy, and smart, and sophisticated, and funny. And I’m,” again he gestures, this time at himself, “me.” Patrick looks down, either at himself or at the floor, David can’t tell, and concludes, “I guess I was intimidated.”

Well, David cannot have that. So, he places his hands on either side of Patrick’s face, tilting his chin up. He leans in, and with his lips a breath away from Patrick’s, whispers, “You’re perfect.”

Then, finally, there are no more interruptions. They are just kissing. And it is everything David has always wanted kissing to be.

# # #

 _Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod_ , Patrick thinks, _I’m kissing David. On a bed. In our hotel room_.

This is exactly what he has been wanting for months. He’s thrilled. And honestly a bit proud of himself for getting to this point.

He’s also kind of terrified, but he’s going to follow David’s lead and try, for once in his life, not to overthink it.

The kisses quickly become heated. David’s hands go to Patrick’s shirt buttons, unbuttoning them and tugging the shirt from his jeans even as he licks and sucks at his pulse point. Patrick can’t help the shuddering moan that escapes him. He tries to get David’s shirt off, too, but David pulls away to do it himself. This is fine with Patrick if it means he gets to watch David undress.

He has seen David without a shirt more than once this weekend, at the pool, but this is different. This time they are sitting on a bed together and Patrick has his hands in David’s chest hair and is leaned over with his mouth on David’s nipple.

Then, suddenly, David is pulling him back up into a kiss and at the same time pushing him back onto the bed. Feeling David’s weight on top of him makes Patrick giddy. He never knew it could be like this. Never knew he could want like this.

And want he does. He is harder than he has ever been in his life, his cock straining against the front of his jeans. He can feel David’s hard length pressing against his hip. God, David’s jeans are so tight, Patrick knows he can’t be comfortable. He reaches down, but pauses with his hands on the button, asking a silent question. David is the one who puts voice to it.

“Are you sure?” David asks.

Patrick nods and says, “so sure.” It comes out raspier than he expects.

“Let me,” David says, and gets up from the bed to get his shoes and socks off and struggle out of his tight jeans. Now in nothing but a pair of probably very expensive black boxer briefs, he rejoins Patrick on the bed.

Patrick really wants the opportunity to just look at David, now that he’s allowed, so he hooks his ankles around David’s legs, rolls them over, and straddles David’s thighs.

Judging by David’s gasp, and the dazed look on his face, Patrick thinks he liked that move.

Patrick leans forward a little bit and ghosts his fingertips across the skin of David’s abdomen, up his sides, down his chest, savoring the view.

David breathes out his name and it is the sexiest thing Patrick has ever heard.

David’s hands go to Patrick’s belt buckle and this time David is the one who pauses, waiting for permission.

“Yes,” Patrick whispers.

David makes quick work of Patrick’s belt, button, and zipper, and Patrick stands, just as David had done, to remove shoes, socks, and jeans.

David rolls over onto his side, his hand never leaving Patrick’s body. When Patrick is down to his own briefs, David runs his fingers along the top edge of the underwear.

Eyes on the outline of Patrick’s cock, David asks, “Are these staying on?” Then he looks up and makes eye contact, heavy-lidded with desire.

Patrick shudders. He closes his eyes against the onslaught of emotions and nerves, hooks his fingers into his waistband, and pushes his underwear down his legs. He is now naked, cock hard and leaking, standing in front of the most beautiful man he has ever seen. Who is looking at him as though he wants to devour him.

He shudders again and lets himself be pulled back down on top of David. The only thing between them now is the thin fabric of David’s underwear, which leaves little to the imagination. They kiss, and rock their hips together. It is exquisite.

Then David rolls them over, kissing and licking his way down Patrick’s body – his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his stomach. But there he stops and looks up at Patrick.

“What do you want?”

“Anything, David… _god_ , anything,” Patrick moans.

“Can I suck you?”

“ _Fuck_. Yes, _please_ David. God, yes.”

David continues his path down Patrick’s body, but bypasses his straining cock, moving instead to his inner thighs. Patrick moans again. David’s hands encourage Patrick to spread his legs wider as David mouths the skin of his left inner thigh, biting and sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

By the time David wraps his lips around the head of Patrick’s cock, Patrick is already an incoherent mess. It doesn’t take long at all before he is coming down David’s throat, fingers entwined in David’s thick hair.

“Oh my god, David.” Patrick doesn’t even recognize his own voice.

David kisses his way back up to Patrick’s lips. Patrick puts his hands on either side of David’s face and plunders his mouth with his tongue. He wants to taste David, and himself on David.

He wants to reciprocate, but he’s not sure he’s ready for that yet. He is _definitely_ ready to see David naked, though, so he runs his hands down David’s sides, coming to a stop with his fingers just inside his waistband.

“ _Fuck_ , Patrick,” David says, and moves to quickly slide the underwear down and off. Patrick sits up, pulling a now naked David onto his lap and wrapping a hand around him. He’s never done this before, but David doesn’t seem to mind. It only takes a few strokes before he is coming between them, then collapsing, pushing Patrick back onto the bed.

Sated, happy, and exhausted, Patrick lays there, eyes closed, enjoying David’s weight on top of him. As he begins to drift off, he feels David get up, hears water running, and then feels himself being cleaned up with a warm wash cloth.

“Thank you, David.”

“Here, drink this,” David says, handing him a small tumbler of water, “and get up.”

“What? No. Come back to bed,” Patrick whines.

“Patrick, there are two beds, and that one is gross now. C’mon.”

Patrick lets David pull him up and they fall into the other bed together. Patrick rolls onto his side and David curls into him against his back.

The last thought Patrick has before falling asleep is, _I’ve never been the little spoon before_.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face, wrapped in the arms of his favorite person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the reappearance of Clint and Marcy, and to find out what Clint whispered to David back in chapter 4. ;)


	7. A Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys visit Clint and Marcy one last time before heading home, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it folks. The final chapter. I hope it lives up to expectations. Endings are hard.
> 
> Unbeta'ed as always.
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who has commented, kudo'ed, subscribed, etc. You have kept me going, in more ways than one.

David wakes up on Sunday morning to soft lips on his neck and something pressing deliciously against his hip. He grins.

“Mmmm, good morning.”

He feels Patrick’s silent laughter, warm breath against his ear, chest vibrating. “Good morning, beautiful.”

David turns his head toward Patrick, and they kiss, lazily at first, then gradually with more heat. He pulls Patrick more fully on top of him and presses his hips up, creating an exhilarating friction that wrenches the most beautiful sound from Patrick’s throat.

They rock against each other, David’s hands on Patrick’s ass, one of Patrick’s in David’s hair, until they are coming, moments apart, names on each other’s tongues.

After, David holds Patrick tight against him as their breathing evens out. He cannot quite believe that this is real, that he gets to have this. Did Patrick really say the things he said last night? Did David?

“Pinch me,” he says.

“David,” Patrick chuckles, “I told you I wouldn’t turn into a pumpkin.”

“I can’t believe this is real.”

“It is,” Patrick says.

David tightens his arms around Patrick once more, just for a moment, before gently pushing him away. “We’re gross. I need a shower.”

He stands and moves toward the bathroom, not letting go of Patrick’s hand until absolutely necessary. When he gets to the bathroom door, he makes a decision.

He pauses in the doorway and, giving Patrick his most lascivious leer, shimmies his shoulders and says, “Are you joining me?”

The gamble pays off. Patrick’s face slides from shocked to delighted to lustful in the most adorable way, and before David can even process that reaction, he is being bundled into the bathroom by a very cute, very enthusiastic man.

Showered and dressed after two very nice orgasms each (at least, David is pretty confident that Patrick’s were nice too), David is packing his suitcases when Patrick comes up behind him and puts his arms around his waist, resting his on his shoulder.

“Would you mind if we swing by and see my folks again before we leave town?”

“Why-, why would you want to do that?” David thinks he knows why, but he’s never been asked to meet someone’s parents before. And certainly not after less than 24 hours of... dating? Is that what they’re doing? They should probably talk about that.

“My parents met you two days ago as my business partner. Things have changed now. It would feel dishonest not to tell them.”

And David cannot quite find it in himself to argue with Patrick when he’s being all earnest like this. It’s endearing, if terrifying, that he wants his parents to know about this change in their relationship.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Call them and let them know we’re coming.”

# # #

Patrick calls his mom’s cell.

“Patrick? Is everything alright? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today.”

“Hi, mom. Yeah, everything is fine. I wondered if you’d like to meet us for brunch before we head out. It’ll be a while before we see each other again and I thought it might be nice.”

“Sure, honey, that sounds lovely. How about West Egg Café? In about an hour? We’ll meet you there.”

“Sounds great, mom. We’ll see you soon. Bye.”

An hour. And West Egg is just a few minutes from the hotel. They still have to check out, of course, and get the car packed, but that won’t take long. Patrick does a quick calculation in his head and sets an alarm on his phone.

David, who finished packing while Patrick talked to his mom, is now sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at him with eyebrows raised. “Well? What did she say?”

Patrick grins and goes to David. “They’re going to meet us for brunch in an hour.”

“Okay.” David opens his knees and Patrick steps into the space, placing his hands on either side of David’s head, tilting his face up.

“The restaurant is just up the street. We don’t need to leave for _at least_ another 35 minutes.” He runs his fingers through David’s hair.

“Mmm hmm, and how were you planning on passing the time?” David asks, tongue peaking out across his lower lip. His eyes keep darting to Patrick’s mouth.

Patrick leans in and, just because he can’t help himself, says, “Oh, you know, I thought I’d watch some ESP-…mmph,”

David’s lips are on his and he’s laughing, and David’s laughing, and it feels perfect.

Patrick has never felt this completely at ease and at the same time so completely turned on. He has never laughed into a kiss like this. And – oh – this is another first, because David is pulling him down onto his lap. Not to straddle him, like what they did last night, but just to sit. Patrick’s butt is on David’s thigh, his legs between David’s legs, David’s hand on his lower back as they kiss.

He likes this. He sinks into it and for the next half hour or so they just make out.

It’s nice. Until a sudden load beeping jolts them out of their bliss. David jumps up, dumping Patrick from his lap, and screams, “Jesus, _fuck_!”

It takes Patrick a moment to reorient himself and turn off the alarm.

“Time to go, David. Get a move on!” he laughs, and swats David’s ass on his way to get the suitcases.

They arrive at the café just after 11 o’clock, checkout having taken longer than expected. Patrick can tell David is nervous, so when he opens the café door for David he grabs his hand as he walks through it. They pause for a moment in the vestibule, holding hands. Patrick leans up and kisses the corner of his mouth, and he can see David start to relax, but it doesn’t take, so he entwines their fingers together before opening the door into the restaurant proper. He hopes the gesture is reassuring.

His parents have already been seated, in a booth near the back. Patrick can see on his mother’s face the exact moment she notices that they are holding hands. She beams at them and nudges his dad, who looks up from the menu and gives them a warm smile.

“I knew it!” Shockingly, it is not his mother who says this. As Patrick slides into the booth beside David, his dad flags down the waitress. “A round of mimosas, please. We’re celebrating!”

“Dad, what do you mean ‘you knew it’?” Patrick asks.

“I told David the other night that you were good together,” his father explains, still smiling.

“What?!” Patrick and his mother both exclaim at the same time.

Patrick looks at David who seems befuddled at first. But then his eyebrows go up and he says, “I thought you just meant the business!” Then turning to Patrick, he explains, “At the end of the night, when we were saying goodbye, remember? Your dad whispered something?”

“And you didn’t want to tell me what,” Patrick said.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, it just didn’t seem like a big deal.” David turns back to Patrick’s father and says, incredulous, “You said ‘you work well together.’”

“And I was right, wasn’t I?!”

Patrick thinks he has never been happier than he is in this moment, getting ready to drink mimosas and eat pancakes at this little café, in his hometown, with his parents and his boyfr-…well, David…. Instinctively, he reaches out for David’s hand, and at the same time sees his mother reach out for his father’s hand. He meets her eyes across the table and they share a smile.

 _Yes_ , he thinks, _this is what happy feels like_.

# # #

The West Egg Café, with their proper-sized paper menus, stoneware mugs, and full bar, is far nicer than Café Tropical. David, halfway through a stack of pancakes and on his second mimosa, listens as Marcy (also on her second mimosa) regales him with stories of Patrick as a child.

So far he has learned that Patrick’s imaginary friend, Rocky, had lived under the table in their front entryway and that he’d been afraid of coat racks when he was very small (“They cast scary shadows!”). Now Marcy is telling about the time Patrick got stuck on the roof of his high school.

“They had to call the police and the fire department,” she laughs. “You should have seen his face when the officer brought him to the front door.”

Gleefully, David turned to Patrick and asked, “And why, exactly, were you on the school roof?”

“It was a dare,” Patrick shrugs, red-faced.

“Oooh, was it a double dog dare?” David can’t help but tease.

“Shut up,” Patrick answers, but he’s laughing too.

This is fun, but David has been distracted from his pancakes for too long and cold pancakes are incorrect. He turns his attention back to his meal. The rest of brunch passes in light, pleasant conversation. Once the plates have been cleared and Clint has sent his card off with the waitress, David catches Marcy’s eye. The look she gives him is kind, approving. He likes Marcy. She’s fun. He wants to make her laugh, so he winks at her at turns to Patrick.

“Hey, Patrick?” David pokes his shoulder to get his attention before he continues, “I _dare_ you to go a whole week without wearing blue.”

Marcy cackles and David feels like he’s won a prize.

Brunch is over. The check is paid and Patrick has left a tip on the table. The four of them make their way to the front of the restaurant and out the door to say their goodbyes. There is a flurry of hugs and well wishes and _be safes_ and then they are in the car, ready for the journey home.

Patrick stops at a gas station on the way out of town to fill up and replenish the snacks, then swings through a drive-thru to pick up a tea and a macchiato for the ride. David puts on a playlist and they settle in, to head back home.

It is similar to the drive they made three days before, but it is also different. Whenever Patrick sets his tea in the cupholder, his hand reaches out to rest on David’s knee or hold his hand. David reaches for Patrick just as often, and he finds himself gazing, more often than not, at the handsome man next to him, wondering how on earth he gets to have this.

 _If_ he gets to have this. What if they get back to the store and Patrick changes his mind? What if this is too much? David tries to replay their conversation from the night before in his head. Tries to recapture the certainty in Patrick’s voice, the tenderness in his kiss. He knows that these fears are just his anxiety playing tricks on him, but knowing that doesn’t make it any easier.

“I can practically hear you thinking over there,” Patrick breaks into his reverie, because of course he does. David has never been able to hide his emotions, despite his best efforts.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about what happens when we get back to the store tomorrow.”

Patrick squeezes his hand before he replies. “I’m going to finish hanging those shelves on the back wall and you are going to set up the window displays.”

“That’s not what I meant and you kn-,”

“I’m not finished. Patrick cuts him off with a grin. “I’ll most likely tease you a lot. And at some point during the day you will almost certainly insult my taste.”

“Okay, but-,”

Again, Patrick doesn’t let him finish. “And all day, in between teasing and building and decorating, I’m going to kiss you. As often as you’ll let me.”

 _Oh_. “Oh. That sounds nice,” is all David can manage. He’s too busy trying to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes.

“David, I want this. I want you. This wasn’t some weekend fling. Being back at the store, in our lives…if anything it’s going to make me want you more. Want _more of_ _you_.”

Damn it, there is no stopping the tears now. “Okay, that is quite possibly one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard anyone say, outside of the Downton Christmas Special.”

Patrick laughs and squeezes his hand again. David squeezes back and settles back into his seat, letting the emotions of the day settle over him. They feel a lot like happiness.

After a few miles of silence, David is feeling wrung out and drowsy. He wiggles around in the seat to get comfortable, finally settling tilted onto his left hip, facing Patrick, hands tucked under his cheek against the back of the seat. Between the rumble of the car and the emotions of the weekend, sleep feels like an inevitability. Despite the obscenely large macchiato he just finished.

He wants Patrick to know how happy he feels, so before he falls asleep he says softly, “I’m really glad I went to your reunion with you this weekend.”

“Me too, David,” Patrick whispers in response. “Me too.”

Patrick’s hand is warm on his knee and his voice is soothing, softly singing along to Brandi Carlile…. _nothing you could do could make me turn my back on you_. It’s the last thing David hears as he drifts off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Patrick is singing at the end is Brandi Carlile's [If There Was No You](https://open.spotify.com/track/4GBw1ipeO6q1OrBpZrXF8f?si=dQIi0JZCTOqkPwp7sXamtQ).


End file.
